


Ardeur

by TheMageRebellion



Series: Nos Perdure d'Amour [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Light BDSM, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Vaginal Sex, this is just pure sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6006561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMageRebellion/pseuds/TheMageRebellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris and Cal play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ardeur

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day here's some sin <3 (This is a somewhat sequel to Desire)
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>  [Cal's dress](http://storyboardwedding.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/Paolo-Sebastian-2016-Autumn-Winter-Couture-Collection-4.jpg)  
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>  [tumblr](http://seniorenchantertrevelyan.tumblr.com)  
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> 

            Another night, another useless party Cal had been strong-armed into attending. Maker, how she wanted to light the hideously-colored drapes on fire to distract the nobility while she made a daring escape through the kitchens.

            Well, _part_ of her wished to flee. The other part was positively _gleeful_ at seeing Fenris in formal clothing—a black silk tunic and expensive leather trousers, though he still chose to forgo shoes of any kind. The strip of scarlet silk he’d torn from her sheets three years earlier was still tied around his wrist in a bold statement that no matter how many marriage proposals the nobility threw her way, she was _his_.

            It’d been three months since their reunion of sorts, and what a strangely wonderful three months it had been. Shortly following the death of his former master Fenris made amends for fleeing all those years ago. (Not that he needed to, but it didn’t hurt.) Their relationship had since flourished: holding hands while walking through Hightown, sitting as close as possible during Varric’s weekly game of Wicked Grace (with much teasing from a certain Rivaini pirate), whatever he was comfortable with. They’d even begun to explore the more… _intense_ elements of their physical relationship.

            It shouldn’t have surprised Cal that Fenris preferred to dominate in the bedroom—after years of submitting to the torment of his former master, Fenris had obviously had enough of being under another’s heel. Not that she minded, of course. She quite enjoyed letting Fenris take control.

            Just as one dance ended, she was yet again pulled into another by a partner she hardly glanced at. All she had eyes for was Fenris, whose moss-green eyes regarding her over a goblet of wine at the edge of the dance floor. A shudder worked its way down her spine—she knew damn well what that stare entailed.

            The dance began, but Cal didn’t pay attention to the steps. Her partner led her across the floor in a smooth waltz, past the elite of Kirkwall and, much to her amusement, an increasingly-irritated Fenris. He’d made it no secret how he detested when those noble fools pulled her into a dance in hopes of seducing the Champion of Kirkwall.

            The silver silk of her skirts whirled around her legs in synch with her movements, a soft whisper unheard over the band and merry laughter. Couples twirled in time with the band in a riot of color. And past it all, Fenris set his goblet on the tray of a passing servant. Cal quickly lost track of him in the crowd.

            The dancers changed partners, and Cal spun into the arms of—

            “ _Fenris_!” she gasped, grateful to feel his arms around her in perfect posture that seemed more natural to him than her.

            “Lady Hawke,” he purred. “I had hoped to steal a moment of your time.”

            _Sweet Maker!_ she thought. Suddenly is was as though everyone else in the room had disappeared, and they were alone, dancing in time to a tune only they knew. The silver of her gown was in stark contrast to his black clothing like the moon against the night sky. “You have but to ask,” she murmured.

            Fenris pressed closer—much closer than was proper—and whispered in her ear: “You’ve been quite naughty, my lady. Meet me in the east wing corridor in three minutes.”

            The song came to a crescendo, and they stopped moving, the rest of the couples continuing their movements unaware of what was happening. A shiver ran down her body when he nipped at the shell of her ear, and it was like when she got too close to one of her own fire spells—unbearably scorching. “And if I don’t?”

            She felt his wolfish grin against her cheek. “Then I’ll have to find a suitable punishment.”

            They parted, Fenris dipping into a sweeping bow and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles as she curtsied.

            And then he was gone, disappearing once more into the crowd.

            Cal fanned herself as she maneuvered past a group of tittering noblewomen, all of whom were pointedly staring at her and giggling.

            “Did you _see_ the Champion’s face?!” one trilled, practically vibrating in excitement. “She’s certainly taken with him.”

            “Shame,” another replied, snapping her fan shut. “He’s quite handsome. I’d like to see how he is in the bedroom.”

            Cal bit her rogued lips in an attempt not to give a snarky reply to the extent of, “He’s utterly fantastic and I’m off to get ravished right this second!” just to see how many of the women blushed. But, for once, she kept her mouth shut. The last thing she needed was Varric to get wind of _that_ rumor.

            She had passed them, and made her way up the staircase that led to the vestibule.

            Past the grand oak doors there were few nobles that lingered in the halls, making it easy to slip into the east wing with little incident. She slowed her steps, hoping to drag out her arrival. She was certain she’d be punished for being late, but that was half the fun, wasn’t it?

            Five minutes after their dance had ended, Cal found Fenris standing before a large painting of Val Royeux, arms crossed and an impatient irritation on his face.

            “You’re late,” he growled, not looking at her.

            “Some lord or another dragged me into a conversation with his son,” she lied, a small smirk twitching her scarlet lips. “He asked me to dance, but I told him I had a… _prior engagement_.”

            A smile curved Fenris’ lips for half a second before he turned to her, taking on the air of control she knew oh so well.

            With steady, sure steps he approached her, crowding her against the stone wall. “Tsk tsk. I don’t appreciate tardiness.” His nose brushed against hers as his lips hovered over her own and she gave a sharp gasp when she felt his hardness through his trousers and the skirts of her gown. “You know that I’ll have to punish you for this.”

            _I wouldn’t have it any other way,_ Cal thought. “Yes, ser,” she replied meekly.

            Fenris cast a glance to the left and right, checking that they were alone. “Come with me.”

            He took her hand and led her down a series of hallways. Cal tried desperately to keep track of the turns but the heat beginning to pool in her belly made it hard to concentrate on anything but the man holding her hand, the callouses that felt oh so _right_ against her skin.

            He led them into a lounge and shut the door behind them, making sure to lock it with a definite _click_ Cal felt in her gut.

            She stood completely still as Fenris placed his hands on her hips and brushed is lips along the exposed column of her neck. (She made a note to thank Isabella for suggesting she wear her hair up.)

            Though there were layers of silk between them, Cal felt his hands as though she were already naked. She shuddered at the thought of his fingers gripping her hard enough to leave bruises on her pale skin. He always apologized for them after, but she secretly adored them.

            His hands slid up her body, caressing her curves and stopping at her shoulders. “Bend over the settee,” he ordered quietly, hot breath caressing her ear and causing a flood of desire to build up in her belly.

            “Yes, ser,” she whispered, walking over to the sofa he’d indicated. Her thighs slipped together as her desire soaked through her smalls.

            She bent over the armrest, chest heaving in anticipation of the pleasure to come. She heard Fenris give a sharp intake of breath as he took in her prone form.

            After what felt like an eternity, she heard Fenris approach. He lifted her skirts and promptly ripped her lacy smalls in half to remove them. _Shit,_ she thought, though the action only caused her to become wetter. She rubbed her thighs together to gain some semblance of the friction she so desperately craved. _Isabella’s going to kill me for that._

            “You will remain still,” Fenris growled, giving a slight slap to her bottom in warning.

            “Yes, ser,” Cal gasped, relishing the feeling of his hand smoothing the skin to ease the ache there.

            For a full minute he did nothing but run his hand along the smooth skin of her thighs. She bit her lip to keep from whining, hoping he’d take pity on her and begin the punishment she was so looking forward to.

            He gave sharp slap to her rear as a test, and she whimpered in response.

            “Are you ready?” he asked.

            This was her chance to back out. All she had to do was say the word—maleficar—and he would stop immediately.

            But Cal had no desire to stop. She wanted everything he was willing to give, and wanted to give everything she had.

            “Yes, ser,” she said, voice clear despite her growing desire.

            “Ten will do,” he growled. “You will count every one.”

            “Yes, ser.”

            His hand met her rear with a sharp _smack_. “One,” she counted, fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa.

            He always held back the first few slaps, alternating cheeks, giving her time to acclimate to the pain and pleasure. But after that, he became rougher and it became harder for Cal to conceal her enjoyment of his “punishments.”

            By four, she was moaning with each slap. She pressed her thighs together hoping to stave off her impending orgasm.

            “You will not come until I tell you to,” Fenris snapped, recognizing the signs that she was close.

“Yes, ser.” Another slap to her surely-reddened bottom. “Five!”

“Good girl.” He smoothed his hand along the aching skin. “ _Kaffas_ , I can _smell_ how much you want me.”

 _Smack!_ “Six!” Oh Maker, but she wanted him. Wanted his cock inside her, stretching her, filling her, fucking her until she was _raw_.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, bending over her and breathing against her neck. _Maker’s breath!_ She was so aroused the hot puffs of his breath caused her cunt to throb in response. “For me to take you right here, right now while the nobility are none the wiser?”

“Yes, ser!” _Smack!_ “Seven!”

The next two slaps came in quick succession, and Cal screamed her pleasure. She was so _close_ …

When the final slap fell against her bum, she gripped the armrest _hard_. “Ten!” she cried, breaking off into a moan as her cunt clenched around nothing.

For several moments there was nothing but silence, Fenris softly caressing the red and aching skin of her rear. Cal gasped for breath, occasionally biting her lip to distract herself from how sensitized her skin was following his punishments.

There came the creak of leather as Fenris pulled down his trousers enough to reveal his cock and Cal knew immediately what was to come. A flood of pleasure made her thighs sticky at the thought of his cock hard _for her_.

He slid the engorged head of his cock along her seam, coating himself in preparation. “Is this what you want?” he asked, yet again giving her the opportunity to back out.

“Yes!” Cal gasped. “Yes, please, please!”

“Please, _what_?” he snarled as the crown of his cock bumped against her painfully swollen clit.

She gave a sob and arched her back in pleasure. “Please, Fenris! Please, I want your cock so _badly_!”

Fenris growled and filled her in one fluid motion. She gave a sharp cry, suddenly full, and her cunt rippled around him. _Oh Maker!_ she thought. It was going to be a chore not to come until she had permission.

Fenris set a hard, demanding pace. The room was filled with the lewd sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet noises of her body swallowing his length, her breathy cries, and his low groans.

He leaned over and bit into the flesh of her neck hard enough to leave a rather noticeable bruise. “You’re such a good girl,” he hissed, soothing the pain with a languid lick of his tongue.  “Taking my cock so well. Do you want to come around me while I fill you with my seed? Do you want that, Cal?”

“Yes!” she sobbed, chest heaving as she panted. “Please, ser, let me come! I want to come!”

He licked the shell of her ear before whispering, “Then come! Come for me, Cal.” He pressed two finger to her clit, rubbing the nub _hard_ , and that was all the encouragement she needed.

With a scream, Cal came around him, her cunt clenching rhythmically. “Fenris!”

One thrust, two, and Fenris followed her over the edge. His heat filled her and gave a shout of her name, muffled against her neck.

They stayed like that for several minutes, both trying to catch their breath as their essence dripped down Cal’s thighs and sweat cooled their heated skin.

            Fenris eased himself out of her and Cal whimpered at the loss, suddenly _too empty_. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asked, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

            “No,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “You were perfect.” She paused. “Though Isabella may kill you for ruining my smalls.”

            He chuckled and she felt it rumble though his chest. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

            With slow movements (and many kisses) he helped her right her skirts and she with his trousers before they walked arm-in-arm back to the ballroom.

            They passed the group of gossiping noblewomen Cal had passed before, and they took in their disheveled hair and the blossoming bruise on Cal’s neck. Their scandalized whispers followed them as they moved to the dance floor, but Cal didn’t care one bit.

            “I love you,” she whispered in his ear as he led her through the dance.

            Fenris smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and reblogs are my oxygen


End file.
